When the Looking Glass Failed
by breizhbit
Summary: "I was Followed!" said Alice. "Followed! By what?" "Who," she wheezed. "Whom," he corrected. "Bother!" "You do seem to have had a run in with a spot of Bother, but it's over now Alice dear." Two Respectable Gentlewomen from Above call at Hat House.
1. Chapter 1

Standard disclaimers apply.

1.

"Tarrant!"

Alice rushed up to the gate of Hat House, noting belatedly that it was looking very fine with a new coat of orange paint as she slammed the gate behind her. Normally, she would make the gate a compliment and ask who'd been mending, but at the moment Time had deserted her and she was obliged to dash about looking for Hatters who simply would not be where she thought to look.

"Tarrant!" she bellowed from the doorway, ignoring the grumbles of the indignant knob.

"Alice?" she heard the Hatter reply faintly above her and to the right. That must mean the workroom upstairs. Alice lifted her cumbersome skirts and took the stairs two at a time, revealing legs and feet quite bereft of garments. Alice clutched her stockings and heeled shoes in her hands, not quite able to bring herself to totally abandon them despite how they pinched.

The Mad Hatter looked up from where he had been carefully laying his work to rest upon hearing Alice's cry. She stood in the doorway of his workroom, chest heaving far too quickly. She was red in the face and positively gasping. Hatter wanted to ask what the matter was, but a quick perusal that might have been considered impertinent if circumstances were different told him that Alice was not exactly Alice-shaped at the moment, indicating she had been cajoled into confining herself in some sort of constricting corsetry. This was not the shape of a happy Alice. Not for the first time he wondered why she submitted to such treatment, but whenever he'd asked she had only sighed sadly and told him that she wasn't terribly good at all the other sorts of submitting that was expected of her in the Otherland, and one had to make some effort to please one's relations. He understood this, he supposed, however the Hatter harboured rather uncharitable thoughts from time to time about those who were so unappreciative of the perfection of the natural Alice-shape that they would endeavor to change it. Being foremost in the art of Alice-shape-appreciation in any world, Above or Below, the Hatter was sure he was quite biased about the importance he placed upon it. However, her heaving chest was not slowing, so he shook himself, stepped around his worktable and cutting table, and helped Alice into a chair that was mostly visible beneath the tangle of bolts of fabric and spools of ribbon that spilled off the shelf behind it.

"Alice," he started, "you simply must calm yourself. You promised to do no running, and it seems that you have, and in that vile undergarment no less. I won't have it." He scowled down at it, though he couldn't see it, and found he was actually scowling down at her chest, which confused and embarrassed him, as that was not at all a part of Alice he was accustomed to scowl at, not that he did much scowling at Alice. In fact, none at all that he could recall in recent memory. Their time together was most often filled with pleasantness, laughter, and joy, so it was little wonder that her distressed state was muddling him.

"Hatter," she gasped, trying desperately to slow her breaths for the sake of his sometimes-sanity, "I remember your admonishment, and I wouldn't have, except that I did," she shook her head to dispel this tweedle she'd found herself in, "owing to the fact that I was Followed!"

"Followed!" The Hatter exclaimed. "By what?"

"Who," she wheezed.

"Whom," he corrected.

"Bother!" Alice was still feeling extremely hot and found she had been perspiring most actively. She glanced around her for a handkerchief, and was most grateful when the Hatter produced a vermillion specimen from his waistcoat pocket and began to dab her temples.

"You do seem to have had a run in with a spot of bother, but it's over now Alice, dear," he soothed.

"No, no, Tarrant. I mean to say, it is not only bother which has followed me, but two Respectable Gentlewomen from Above. One being my mother, and the other being Lady Ascot, whom you might remember as figuring largely in the circumstances leading up to my first Return."

The Hatter's eyes widened beyond their usual impressive width and his lips pursed and expanded into a soundless "o" before he was able to catch up to the meaning of this surprising turn of events and respond.

"Should we lay out tea?"

"There should be no need, we came upon Mally and Thackery at the Wiindmill, and I charged Mally with leading them here after they'd had a cup. I didn't want to come and catch you completely unawares. Did I do the right thing, do you think?" she asked anxiously.

Alice wrung her hands and he noticed that she seemed to be suffering a loss of muchness. She seemed decidedly less much, poor girl, when threatened with visits from these Gentlewomen of Above.

Hatter gave a bit of a mad giggle at the thought of the other regulars of the mad tea party making the acquaintance of Mrs. Kingsley and Lady Ascot, and then another at the thought that he was about to do the same. Here, at Hat House! It was a good thing he'd had some fish and lizards in day before last to take care of the leaking roof and do something about the state of the garden. He'd meant it as a bit of a tidy-up to surprise Alice on her return, but now it seemed he'd gotten some luck on his side if they were to be hosting such persons.

"Will they be staying for supper? They'll depart by looking glass same as they arrived, I suppose. Would you like me to move one downstairs for the purpose?" he asked.

"But Tarrant," Alice practically wailed. "That's the thing. They didn't come by looking glass. I couldn't get through! I thought to come a bit early, but found that I was unable to get through the one in my bedchamber. The looking glass in Margaret's room and the one in the dining room and in the downstairs parlour were still as well. I didn't know what to do! I know we'd talked about not taking risks, but I decided to try the rabbit hole at Wainsbury, the Ascots' estate. My mother was to take tea with them today, so I came along with her, intending to slip away into the garden, but I was caught. I tried to get away from them so I could jump properly, but I tripped. Mother grasped my arm, and Lady Ascot grasped her sleeve, and down we all went-"

"Yeh werrenna hur' Alice, luv?" demanded Tarrant, apparently alarmed beyond Reason at her tale.

She grasped his hand and looked into his eyes, watching them greening at her touch. Alice paused in her panic and regained a measure of much.

"No Tarrant, I was careful to grab a featherbed or two as I sped by, so the landing was really nothing to me at all. I had Mother do the same, but despite my repeated advice Lady Ascot only regained the presence of mind to clutch at some tea towels at the last minute and I'm rather afraid they gave her arm a bit of a wrench as they caught on the chandelier at the bottom. She was Most Distressed. I'm afraid her opinion of Underland has not much improved in the intervening hours."

The Hatter noted the worried crease of her brow, and realized that it was put there due to Alice's concern for her mother's impressions of this world and not Lady Ascot's.

"But your mother, she has fared better?"

"She seems to have decided this is a fit she is having. It's probably for the best, but now that she has actually come here, which even I had believed Quite Impossible, I wish she didn't have to do it in a fit."

The Hatter seemed to realize once more that Company was Coming, so he began to remove his apron and run his hands through his hair before donning his hat. He took Alice's hand with care and helped her down the stairs.

"Parlour or garden?" he half-asked, half muttered, walking past the french doors leading out to the former. Alice spared a dubious glance for the back garden and gasped this time with pleasure, as she found it transformed from its usual state of dishevelment to something quite different.

"Tarrant! You've improved the garden. It's lovely." She wandered out toward the wrought-iron table and chairs painted in the same turquoise as the shutters of Hat House. As she went, many of the flowers inclined their heads on newly groomed stalks or introduced themselves with friendly how-do's.

"We can certainly host them out here," she called behind her, turning only to find the Hatter at her shoulder, carrying a large tray laden with tea things.

"They'll just have had some," she said musingly, "but it couldn't hurt to be prepared in case they need some more. Mother in particular may be in need of a restorative."

The Hatter set down the tray. "Shall I fetch the brandy?" he inquired.

"No, though it might be wise to mark where it is in case it needs to be fetched quickly."

There was, just then, the sound of a squeak and a clatter at the front gate. Sharing a glance, Alice and the Hatter laid the table for tea with such astounding speed and accuracy that several of the flowers were still applauding as Mally lead the way into the garden, two dark-skirted Respectable Gentlewomen in tow.

Mallymkun looked at the Hatter with a fierce expression that let him know he was at her disposal for hat-travel for the next fortnight at least and said in a barely civil tone.

"Here they are, The Alice. Safe and sound and completely insensible. They're all yours now."

"Th-thank you Mally," said Alice, "won't you stay for-"

"No thank you!" and with that, the dormouse stomped off through the house and presumably out of the situation.

The Hatter was nervously eyeing Alice, who seemed to be overcome by the sight of her mother and Lady Ascot standing, slightly bedraggled but still formidable, in the back garden of Hat House.

"Won't you sit down?" he said to the ladies, indicating the long table beside them. He said this mostly because Alice seemed to need to be sitting, and he doubted she would do so while the other women from her world remained standing.

He went ahead and pulled out a chair first for Mrs. Kingsleigh and then for Lady Ascot, which at least Lady Ascot seemed to feel was the wrong way about, and then rushed over to lead Alice into one by her elbow. Which perhaps was also the Wrong Thing to Do, and he felt there was much eye narrowing at his hand on her arm.

Suddenly it was as if Alice had abruptly awoken. As her skirts hit the chair she looked up at him rather desperately. Alice grasped hold of her muchness and clutched his sleeve, right there in front of their guests.

"Tarrant, you must understand, I couldn't tell my family anything. Above, they would lock me up if they heard half the things I have to say about Underland. Mother doesn't know-I've never said anything. I avoided her attempts to arrange something for me rather effectively, but I never said precisely why. Don't-" the words seemed to be trying to escape her lips before she could properly use them. "It's nothing to do with you. No-I mean, I would have if I could have, but they would never have understood."

"Alice!" The first word out of the mouth of Mrs. Kingsleigh was his favourite by far, but the tone was all wrong. It was remonstrative, disapproving, and loud. "Alice, you forget yourself."

"Indeed, Mother, I should first introduce introductions into the conversation." Here Alice stopped, looked down at her hands, and removed a rather curious ring that she had claimed to have purchased in the Orient from the finger of her right hand. She looked her mother in the eye and replaced it on the fourth finger of her left hand.

"This is my husband, Tarrant Hightopp. Welcome to Hat House, our home."

A/N –

Well! Here is a little something that just would not let me go after *finally* watching the 2010 Burton movie and reading some awesome Tarrant/Alice epics here on ffn. I seem to be unable to resist sending mothers of Alices into Wonderland, so maybe this will get me to finish the piece I started years back for Syfy's Alice.

Let me know what you think please—does it seem worth going on with to you? Is Underland interesting enough? Is the language too frou-frou? I've got more written but reviews are what makes it happen for me. Thanks ever so, bb.


	2. Chapter 2

Brief note on names and titles: Lord and Lady Ascot are titles, and each of them must have a name apart from that. For the purposes of this fic, Lady Ascot's given name is Minnie, and the surname that she shares with Lord Ascot is Wexford. I have already given their country estate the name Wainsbury, and though I do not go into locations in this story, I assume it to be an easy carriage ride from London, where the Kingsleighs are living.

2.

Helen Kingsleigh first noticed her daughter was acting particularly strangely when she came down to breakfast a week ago Thursday. She kept making excuses to leave the house, and always insisted on calling a taxi rather than taking their own carriage. Her skulking about was really becoming quite ridiculous. Not that her behavior before that date could be regarded as anything other than peculiar. It had been about two months since Alice had returned from the Orient, and altogether her behavior had been a pleasant change from before her voyage, if still somewhat confusing. Alice would wake up in one mood, go up to write letters in her room and then emerge in an entirely different state of mind, often forgetting little things that had been said to her only hours before. She'd started carrying around a battered notebook which she was in the habit of consulting constantly over every detail. Still, the past two months had seen an overall tendency toward a more even temper, and a desire to please her mother and sister in many of the small matters about which Alice was notoriously stubborn. She also seemed satisfied by her trip to China in that she had wound up most of her business with the company and appeared to be content to leave its running in the capable hands of Lord Ascot, though she still showed an unladylike interest in all business dealings and would retire to Lord Ascot's study immediately whenever they made a call at Wainsbury Manor. Lady Ascot was under the impression that Alice was avoiding herself and Hamish due to embarrassment over that Unfortunate Incident at the garden party last spring. Mrs. Kingsleigh was relatively certain that this was not the case, but did not wish to make Alice any stranger in the eyes of Society by pointing out the numerous maps and notes about trade routes and tariffs that were always spread out on Lord Ascot's desk when she visited despite Alice's assurances that she had finished her apprenticeship.

Though she was not clear on the details, it seemed that through some sort of bargain or other, Alice had reclaimed partial ownership in the company. Lord Ascot had come to visit them one afternoon with a solicitor in tow, with documents that guaranteed quarterly earnings to be deposited in the bank not under Alice's name, but under Helen's. This surprised and alarmed Mrs. Kingsleigh, but Alice and Lord Ascot had rushed to assure her it was only out of convenience. Lord Ascot had taken her aside later and pointed out that it might make it difficult for an independent-minded woman like Alice to have too large a personal income when she did decide to marry, and that leaving control of the fortune in Helen's capable hands was surely the more prudent course.

Despite Lord Ascot's attempts at delicacy, Mrs. Kingsleigh knew that he was alluding to the feckless spending habits of her present son-in-law, Lowell Manchester. The man's deficiencies in character had been becoming all the more apparent of late. After her daughter's marriage, Mrs. Kingsleigh had heard there might be reason to suspect all was not above-board with Lowell, son of a lord though he might be. To her relief his manner was much improved when not long after the Garden Party Incident, Margaret had announced her pregnancy. However, once Alice departed with Lord Ascot's ship for China, certain debts incurred by Lowell had been brought to her attention. Apparently the senior Manchesters had dealt with such matters in the past, but felt that Lowell should now be able to draw on his wife's fortune to settle them. Margaret had arrived in tears, having received a letter from the Kingsleigh family solicitor, Mr. Hargraves, informing her that the terms of her trust would not allow the withdrawal of a sum equal to the amount requested. Of course, this letter was the first Margaret had heard of any request for money, and Helen thanked her stars that Charles had stipulated that money was to be held in trust for Margaret and not relinquished to her husband upon marriage. This had been a highly irregular measure, but it seemed that even in death he had foresight far beyond her own.

Helen had instructed Hargraves to provide funds from her own accounts to settle the debts, but to make it clear to Lowell that this was to be a one-time payment. Unfortunately, Lowell had soon gone back to his scandalous ways and a decision would have to be made as to how to deal with him while sparing Margaret as much pain as possible. What with the birth of little Clarence just three months prior, Helen doubted Margaret had any idea of how Lowell was spending his time or his money. Though Alice was also thrilled with the birth of her nephew, Helen believed Alice was under no delusions as to the activities of her brother-in-law. She had been to see Hargraves twice since returning to England, and both times had come back scribbling madly in her tatty little journal.

This alertness, disturbing though its cause might be, was heartening to Helen who had for years despaired of her daughter's dreamy ways. With Alice home in London and Margaret swept up in the wonder of motherhood, Helen had rejoiced. She had also not neglected to note the sweetness of expression on Alice's pale and still-beautiful face as she had held her nephew. Her bearing was calm and natural as when the six year old Alice had nursed her cat Dinah's black and white kittens. Though she might protest at the inadequacies of the suitors Helen had found for her so far, she could not believe that her younger daughter held any less desire for motherhood than her sister. The improvement in her temper of late encouraged Helen to once again surreptitiously cast her net amongst her acquaintance for news of eligible young men whose potential as fathers might tempt Alice despite her reluctance to see any as husbands.

And then, all her happy plans were thrown to the wind. This morning, Alice had rushed downstairs to breakfast with wild eyes, without even being properly attired, and had pulled a dining chair up to the mirror over the dining room mantel, stepped onto it, and put her hands to the glass as if to push it through the wall. She did not explain this fantastic display, but rather rushed back upstairs without saying a word. Nor did she address her behavior when she did appear downstairs an hour later. Despite protesting yesterday that she had too much correspondence to catch up on to attend, Alice had now taken it into her head that she absolutely must accompany her mother to Wainsbury Manor, where Mrs. Kingsleigh was to have tea with Lady Ascot and other charitably-inclined ladies to plan the annual Daylily Society ball. Since Alice had only ever shown the most thinly veiled contempt for this particular cause, Helen had been most perplexed by Alice's sudden determination to attend, especially as she had made them quite late by refusing to wear her corset. Helen had permitted a degree of laxity around the house, but Alice would be the source of no small amount of scandal if she arrived to a meeting of middle aged gentlewomen improperly dressed. She made it known that Alice would be dressed appropriately, or would stay home, and to her considerable surprise Alice had put her head down reappeared within moments with a fashionable silhouette and a serious expression.

It seemed all would be well, as Alice was perfectly demure and obliging upon entering Wainsbury House, not capering off to annoy Lord Ascot in his study as she was wont to do. When they arrived in the garden, however, Alice seemed determined to check up on some roses that she said Lady Ascot had once showed her, and no amount of coaxing could induce her to take her seat. With barely a nod of apology in the direction of the assembled Daylily Society, Alice ran off into the garden, away from the house. Lady Ascot had huffed that this was not even the direction of the rose garden, and took off after Alice. Helen determined that she had better follow, and attempt to insure that Alice caused no more offence to their hostess. Helen trailed after Lady Ascot as they ascended a rather steep hill at the fringes of the park. She was quite out of breath when she found Lady Ascot confronting Alice near a rather gloomy-looking tree.

". . . and what, pray tell, do you think you are doing out here, Miss Kingsleigh?" said Lady Ascot, somewhat triumphantly. She had taken great pains to try to convince some of their mutual acquaintance that Alice was of unsound mind, despite her husband's tendency to praise Alice for her canny business sense and practicality. Helen, and practically all of London society, knew just who felt most slighted by Alice Kingsleigh's public refusal of Hamish's suit. That Alice would put herself in the position to vindicate Lady Ascot's claims of instability could be most disadvantageous to Helen's renewed attempts to find her a suitable husband. She hurried to catch up and do all she could to control whatever damage had already been caused.

"I'm sorry, Lady Ascot, but I absolutely must check the rabbit hole," Alice cried. Helen drew a breath, horrified at the words coming from her daughter's mouth. Of course, she recognized the scenario from the descriptions of Alice's nightmares as a young girl, but Helen had not heard Alice speak of those dreams for years, and never with such confusion with reality. That Alice could possibly have given herself over to madness now, after all her progress, was horribly disturbing.

Just then, several things happened at once. Alice, spying a depression in the roots of the tree, lunged forward and seemed to lose her balance. Helen surged ahead to catch her daughter's hand, and hopefully return her to her feet and her senses. Lady Ascot attempted to pull Alice back, no doubt to scold her further, but instead grasped Mrs. Kingsleigh's arm as she latched onto Alice's shoulder. Instead of hitting the ground and the roots of the tree, as she had braced to do, Mrs. Kingsleigh was most shocked to feel the sensation of air rushing past her at great speeds. Forcing her eyes open, she heard Alice call out to grab hold of something soft as they fell past countless household odds and ends down what seemed like an endless shaft. She scarcely formed the thought that she must be experiencing some sort of fit before Alice called out to her again and a featherbed was thrust into her face. Alice seemed to have collected one for herself from a passing cupboard, and was screaming for Lady Ascot to do the same. Helen spared a glance above herself and was rewarded with the sight of her hostess, breathlessly terrified and facing a menacing pianoforte whose speed abruptly decreased-or else their speed increased-letting up with a discordant clank.

Alice called out something to the effect of, "Brace yourselves!" and then crashed through a barrier that shattered like china. Helen had closed her eyes for the impact, but found herself slowed so that it was not so much jarring as surprising when she halted. With a look around, she realized that instead of landing on her featherbed, she had it clutched out in front of her. looking over, she saw that Alice had done the same. Helen had scarcely taken in the impossible chandelier before her when gravity reasserted itself, and the three of them fell toward the floor.

"There," said Alice somewhat breathlessly, "the featherbeds seem to have done the trick. I always thought they would, but I didn't like to come this way just to test a theory."

She dusted herself off and extended her hand to Helen. "Are you all right, Mother?"

Instead of taking her daughter's hand, Helen gasped as she noticed Lady Ascot, dangling from the chandelier by a tea towel, several feet above the floor. She scrambled up and moved to help the struggling woman down, despite getting kicked as she came into range.

"Hold still Minnie," Helen called to her sometimes-friend, longtime co-chair of the Daylily Society. "Help me get her down," Helen said somewhat crossly to Alice.

"Please stop kicking," Alice asked. "If after surviving such a fall intact, I end up kicked I will have no end of explaining to do."

Finally, Lady Ascot stopped struggling, and the Kingsleigh women were able to gently lower her to the floor. It was only now, as the three of them stood catching their breath, that Helen took the time to look around. They seemed to be standing in a queer little room, quite circular, with doors covering the walls. All sign of the broken ceiling-or would that have been the floor?-was erased, and the featherbeds were nowhere to be found, though Minnie was still clutching a rather ragged tea towel.

There was a small glass table, with a small bottle on it.

"Alice, how is it that I am seeing your nightmare during my fit? Shouldn't I be seeing my own nightmares?" Helen wondered aloud.

Alice seemed to be collecting herself to speak when she was forestalled by Lady Ascot.

"Really, Helen. A fit? I should think I know when I have taken leave of my own senses, and now is not the time. Something is going on. I daresay you know all about it." She turned accusingly on Alice.

Alice seemed to shrink back a bit, but readied herself to speak.

"I can explain only insofar as I understand, and as I understand it, this place defies explanation."

She hurried on as it seemed she was in for further scolding from Lady Ascot. "However, I'd be happy to guide you through Underland, for that is where we are, and help you to find your way home as soon as possible."

Alice seemed to take the stunned silence as a good sign that her directions would be followed.

"Now, if you'll all just direct your attention to the table, there, you see it? Good. Now please look at that door with the brass knocker. And now back at the table. Oh excellent, it worked."

Helen saw that there was now a key on the glass of the table next to the bottle.

Alice smiled.

"A little trick I worked out the last time I had to use this entrance."

She picked up the key and brought it over to a tiny door set against the floor. She crouched low and carefully unlocked it, leaving the key in the lock but keeping it shut.

Standing, she returned to the table and picked up the bottle.

"If you would please move as close to the door as possible for this next part. I'm afraid there's only the one bottle, so I'll have to ask you to allow me to give you each a sip."

"What in God's name are you asking us to do girl," cried Lady Ascot, "why there could be anything in that bottle."

"No Minnie," whispered Helen, casting her mind back to Alice's endless tales as a girl. "It's a potion to make us smaller. I always thought it was the most imaginative idea. Isn't that right Alice?"

Alice smiled wanly at her mother.

"Pishsalver, as I've since learned it's called. It will only take a small sip to get you the right size to climb through the door. Please now, close as you can."

Alice herded the other two women over to the little door. Quick as she could, she pressed the bottle to each of their lips, first Helen, then Lady Ascot. The sensation of shrinking was quite as bad as that of falling had been, and all the more disconcerting as their clothes did not shrink along with them.

Alice was still standing by the table, and took her own tiny sip as she towered above them. Helen watched, clutching the neck of her daydress and chemise, as Alice stooped to pluck something from a little box by the table leg before clutching her own garments to her and wading to the door.

"Keep hold of your clothing please, and I'll fix your size once we're through."

With that, Alice pushed opened the door and lead them outside to a set of stairs approaching a garden of some sort. Helen dragged her clothing along with her, taking care not to tumble down the stair. Alice kept encouraging them, and helped to move their little party along until they reached the bottom of the stair.

"Well I never!" a voice called. "It's an invasion!"

"What's that then?" called another.

"Intruders!"

"No, no," cried Alice, "It's just me. I've come back you see, but there was some confusion and I was followed. Please don't alarm yourselves. We'll just be having some upelkutchen and get on our way."

Helen realized that the voices Alice was responding to belonged to some very animated flowers in the beds nearest them. The day was sunny and humid, and the air buzzed with insects. Upon closer inspection she found them to be dragon- and rocking horse-flies, both of which Alice had drawn endlessly as a child. Helen clutched her head at the odd sensation of experiencing her daughter's daydreams as well as her nightmares come to life.

Alice approached them with what seemed to be a tiny square cake.

"Just the smallest corner should set you right, Lady Ascot," she said. "Mind your clothes so they go on the right way as you grow. Your turn, Mother."

Alice offered her a fresh corner of the little cake. Immediately, Helen felt herself stretching taller. She hastened to follow Alice's advice, and since the process was decidedly slower than shrinking, was able to arrange her garments so as to be fully dressed except for shoes and stockings when she reached her proper size. Lady Ascot, she noted, was in a similar state.

Alice seemed to be sorting through her clothes before taking her bite, and Helen knew exactly what that child was thinking. She crouched over Alice as Lady Ascot had taken a few steps to observe the herbaceous borders and hissed,

"Alice Kingsleigh, don't you dare discard your corset. I don't care if we are in a fantastical dream world I'm imagining during a fit, I will not have you embarrassing us both in front of Minnie Wexford."

Alice looked for a moment as if she might protest, but dutifully took her bite and began arranging her clothes about her. Helen looked around and saw that her shoes has fallen out of her dress on the stair that lead up to the door they'd come through. She noted that it stood eerily alone with nothing at all supporting it.

She carefully handed over a stocking and a boot to Alice with a sharp glance, and the three ladies of London carefully refreshed their appearances. Once they were clothed and shod and had smoothed their hair-Helen had repinned Alice's curly locks which had come out of her chignon-Alice indicated that they were to follow a path through the garden.

The terrain here was as bright and impossible as any of Alice's childhood scribbles. Helen couldn't help but wish it was Charles and not her having this glimpse into Alice's mad world. At each bend in the path there were new sights and sounds of flora and fauna far too exotic to exist in even the furthest reaches of the real world.

"I'm sorry it's so far today," Alice suddenly spoke up, "usually it doesn't take half so long to get home-I mean-there."

"Where? Where are you taking us Alice?" Lady Ascot suddenly stopped. "How do we leave if not the way we came?"

"I'm not entirely sure," replied Alice, "but I'm taking you to a place where we can collect ourselves and try to figure out the answer to your question."

This did not seem to please Lady Ascot, but she seemed amenable enough to a rest that she continued to follow Alice through the trees that had sprung up thickly around them. Just then they took a turn in the road and saw a funny little windmill with bright pink sails merrily twirling ahead of them.

"Oh at last!" cried Alice. "The path would have to be particularly winding today."

She bustled ahead, running toward a hodgepodge series of tables set for tea, but seemingly utterly deserted.

"Mally! Thackery! Don't be alarmed! And also is Tarrant here by any chance?"

Just then the lid of a teapot lifted and a sleepy yet shrill voice cried out,

"'Bout time you're back! Haven't been able to get an insensible word out of the 'Atter, and no, he's not here. He was yesterday, but said he had things to see to in the village today."

Helen stepped closer, and just as she was realizing that the voice she'd been hearing belonged to a little mouse peeking from a teapot, said mouse seemed to realize she was there.

"What's this then!" the mouse yelped. "Don't tell me there's more of you. One Alice is plenty enough to deal with, the rest of you can go back to where you came from thank you very much!"

"Mallymkun!" Alice cried, scandalized. "This is my mother! She didn't intend to come here at all and has had a nasty shock. Please don't speak to her this way. What would Tarrant say?"

The little mouse seemed somewhat abashed.

"Beg your pardon, Ma'am," she mumbled.

"TEA!"

This last was shouted by a Scottish-sounding voice and was accompanied by a flying cup which Alice somehow managed to catch before it collided with her forehead.

"Thackery! There you are. We will have some, thanks," Alice said, moving toward the table. Helen was shocked all over again to see that the new speaker was a rather eccentrically-attired hare clutching a teapot.

"Lady Ascot," called Alice, "Mother, please sit down and take some tea. It will do you good."

The tea party was as mad as any Alice had described as a child, with the dormouse and the hare constantly launching into stories and bits of rhyme with no discernible direction. The only sensical element seemed to be Alice, who was grilling her animal companions again and again as to the whereabouts of a multitude of persons not in attendance. The hare, Thackery, was in the middle of a rather lackluster performance of "Twinkle twinkle" when Alice's voice cut right through.

"Thank you, Thackery. If I could just impose on your hospitality on behalf of my-er-companions, I simply must run ahead to find Tarrant. Mally, would you please," and there seemed to be undue stress on the last word, "guide my mother and Lady Ascot to Hat House when they've quite finished another cup or two or three?"

"We could accompany you right now," Helen said, a bit alarmed at being left in the care of a couple of mad rodents.

"Er, thank you Mother, but I know you could use a break, and I have a task that I really must attend to immediately. I assure you, you will be in the most capable of paws."

She rose abruptly.

"I'll see you shortly Mother, Lady Ascot." Alice dropped a rushed curtsey and took off at a run past the windmill.

There was a rather resounding silence left in her wake.

Since it seemed Lady Ascot could not be counted on at all to keep up conversation with small mammals, Mrs. Kingsleigh decided to do her best.

"I'm sorry my daughter has so rudely imposed us on you both," she tried.

"No trouble at all," replied the hare, "Scone?" he lobbed one rather gently at her plate, but still it overshot and landed in Helen's lap.

The dormouse sniffed,

"The Alice has never troubled 'erself about a little rudeness now and again. Don't see why she'd start now."

"Oh?" inquired Helen, "have you known my daughter long?"

"Plenty long. Since she first came here as a little mite. She was just as rude then as she was on Gribling Day- that being the day of her Return. Then she left on the Frabjous Day, didn't even stop to say goodbye properly. Tuckeral Day, she came back before we knew it, and things seemed to level out a bit. 'Ad some good times. But now she's in and out, back and forth, I don't know why the 'Atter stands for it, I don't."

There was plenty of this that Helen would like to have explained, but being a logical Englishwoman she addressed the first item first.

"You say Alice came here as a child? I thought she was just having bad dreams and telling tales."

The mouse didn't deign to respond to this, and no more did the hare, so Helen moved on the the next most important thing she'd like to know.

"Who is this Hatter? I seem to recall Alice's stories featuring three characters at a tea party. This wouldn't be the Tarrant person you and Alice were just discussing, would it?"

Mally spluttered a bit.

"'Oo's the 'Atter?" She looked positively indignant, nay, furious, "You're 'er own mother, asking me who Tarrant is! That Alice! That ungrateful fruminous mimsy guddler! I'll have that big brown eye for me trophy wall!"

The hare looked up at this and Helen could tell from his expression that this gibberish was not at all complementary toward her daughter.

"Mally!" he exclaimed sharply. The dormouse stomped around on the table a bit, grumbling about what she'd like to do to That Alice.

"Battenburg?" the hare asked, for once politely proffering a tray of sliced cake. Helen couldn't bring herself to take one, as the baffling attitude of the mouse had caused a rather worrisome feeling in the pit of Helen's stomach.

Suddenly Lady Ascot leaned forward in her chair.

"Mouse!" she said.

"That's Mallymkun to you," the creature sniffed.

Lady Ascot took no notice.

"Why won't you answer Mrs. Kingsleigh's question?"

The angry little thing huffed, though it was not quite so blustery as before.

"You want to know who Tarrant is? Follow me. I'll take you right where That Alice asked and you can find out for yerselves."

She hopped from table to chair and then scrambled down to the floor, running off in the direction Alice had taken. At the end of the clearing she paused.

"Well? 'Urry up then!"

Helen and Lady Ascot rose and followed the mouse. She scurried quite quickly along the path, and though they seemed to reach a sort of town, Mallymkun rushed them through so that Helen gained only the vaguest impression of upside-down shops and inside-out restaurants. Soon they came to a fence which seemed to have been only very recently painted bright turquoise. The house beyond was a sprawling mishmash in a riot of bright shades. Orange and red and green and purple all figured heavily into the exterior design. The first story was perfectly round, but the second bulged outward with a mottley assortment of turrets and gables and all manner of architectural addendums. Helen could hardly make sense of what she saw as adding up to any sort of domicile.

Mally stopped for a moment at the orange gate to listen, then said to them, "They're in the back garden. Follow me."

Helen steeled herself and with only a slight hesitation, followed the mouse and Lady Ascot through the front door. She saw signs of a well-lived-in but generally well-cared-for house on her brief journey from front to back door, where she spied Alice standing with the most remarkable looking person.

The mouse quickly took her leave, and Helen felt almost sorry to see her go, for all her bad temper. At least she had somewhat got the measure of the dormouse. This new character-the Hatter, she could only suppose he was, for he wore the most outrageous top hat Helen had ever seen-was almost as difficult to look at and make sense of as his house was. His hair was quite a bright ginger, almost orange, and his coat seemed purple and red and brown all at once. The rest of his attire had far too many embellishments of far too many shades for her to take in right away and before she knew it, she was being ushered into another seat, for yet another tea-the third today! Time stuttered, however, when the Hatter grasped Alice most familiarly by the elbow to lead her to a chair. This pause was punctuated by a soft gasp from Lady Ascot. When Alice returned this physical familiarity along with a tumble of verbal stutterings and nonsense, a reprimand slipped from her lips automatically.

Then Time stopped altogether, and Helen quite distinctly heard her daughter Alice say, "This is my husband, Tarrant Hightopp. Welcome to Hat House, our home."

The gasp from Minnie was far more audible this time, and Helen felt herself coming over queer. Could you have a fit during a fit? She feared she was about to find out.

"I beg your pardon," she managed.

The Hatter, for Hatter he still seemed to be-A Tradesman! Helen heard in her own mother's deeply disapproving voice-leaned over her. He then seemed to make up his mind.

"I believe I shall fetch the brandy after all, Alice dear," he said and disappeared into the house.

This left Alice and the other women of London in silence in the rather surprisingly pleasant back garden of the house that Alice claimed to live in with this man. Her thoughts were rushing about, and Helen could scarcely grab hold of a few long enough to think them. One: at least she hadn't met a Chinaman on her voyage. A friend of Helen's had whispered that this was a popular explanation for Alice's reticence at balls. A Chinaman or a sailor. Two: when could Alice have possibly had time to set up housekeeping with this ridiculous excuse for a milliner? Three: Helen hoped this fit would end soon, leaving her back in England with a respectably unmarried daughter.

"Thank you Tarrant," Alice said, rising from her seat as he re-entered the garden, bottle and glasses in hand. He poured out two generous measures and placed them before each of his guests, for Alice certainly did not seem to be a guest in this house, and returned to Alice's side.

"Sit, sit Alice. You simply must calm yourself. I wish you would change your clothes. Navy looks so dour on you-on anybody really-and I simply can't stand to see you so uncomfortable. Please, Alice, do go and change and I'll keep your mother and her friend company."

Alice reseated herself, but looked dubiously at her mother and Lady Ascot who both seemed to have needed that brandy, as it had vanished already.

"It's fine, darling, really. I'll be fine for a while if I just sit quietly. Won't you pour some tea?"

"Tea?" asked Lady Ascot. "but we've just had some."

The Hatter looked at her somewhat coolly and replied, "You may have, but Alice hasn't." He skillfully poured for Alice, Helen, and himself, including Lady Ascot anyway when Alice nodded toward her cup.

"It's actually herb tea, Lady Ascot. Blue raspberry, if I'm not mistaken," she said, inhaling happily. Helen did not fail to notice the way Alice and this Hatter seemed to be having an entire conversation with their eyes and eyebrows. It ended with a little peal of laughter from Alice, which she quickly stifled behind her hand with a glance toward their guests. The Hatter said nothing, but the very greenness of his eyes seemed to Helen to be quite improper.

After a moment in which everyone was silent, the Hatter seemed to feel the time had come to get the story.

"Alice tells me that you arrived through the rabbit hole quite by accident, Mrs. Kingsleigh, Lady Ascot. I hope that you were not injured during the journey. I have heard from Alice that it can be quite harrowing."

"No sir, not injured, just...shocked," replied Helen.

"Hmm, yes." The Hatter turned his piercing eyes from her and moved to Lady Ascot. "And you, Lady Ascot?" he lisped, "Alice mentioned you suffered a bit of a wrench from a tea towel. Are you in need of healing at the present moment?"

Lady Ascot coloured at this. Certainly dangling from a chandelier by a strawberry-patterned bit of linen had not been Minnie's finest moment. Helen had to resist a mad urge to giggle at the recollection.

"No," Lady Ascot replied, unwilling to participate any further in the conversation.

This did not concern the Hatter in the least, rather he seemed relieved to turn his attention back to Alice.

"You had mentioned, my dear, that the looking glass did not work when you tried to return through it this morning."

"Yes!" said Alice, "I've never had such a problem before, even when Reenie or Riah held the glass for me, and this time it was Mirana herself, so I couldn't believe it had failed. I thought I'd take a risk and come home by one of the other glasses, but the ones in the dining room and parlour were still too!"

Helen started. "Do you mean to say that when you climbed on a chair at breakfast this morning and leaned on the glass over the mantel that you were intending to come here, Alice?"

When Alice and the Hatter exchanged a look this time, Helen could tell from Alice's abashed expression that she had a Lot of Explaining To Do, and Hatter's return indicated that there was little he could do to help her avoid it though he raised the corner of his lips in a way that suggested he'd be there to see it through with her. It was unconscionable the way the man acted so familiar and understanding with Alice! Even if he had-heaven forbid!-met and immediately married Alice when she embarked for the Orient, he would scarcely have had four or five months to get to know her. And that could never have happened anyway, as Lord Ascot's men and Alice's chaperone would never have permitted such a thing to happen, let alone kept it a secret from her.

"I suppose I have been remiss. I will confess, Mother, at first I thought only of getting back here before Time had a chance to play any tricks on me. Travel between our worlds-for that is what we have done today, and what I have been doing for some time-does not always go smoothly. I have tried to pin down the differences, but they are as elusive as mist."

"A hill full, a hole full, you cannot fill a bowlful," the Hatter muttered under his breath.

Alice smiled at him.

"Just so. Anyway, in the general course of things but in no way a specific rule, I have observed that no matter how long I spend here in Underland, I return above only a matter of minutes after I left, whereas measures must be taken when traveling from here to there to chronogorically align the plains, or whatever McTwisp was nattering on about when I asked about going up for a visit."

"Alice," said the Hatter rather kindly.

She sighed.

"There are several rather hard facts that I will need to acquaint you with if I am to tell you anything of my life here. I suppose it will be best to begin at the beginning, get on to the middle and then proceed to the end."

"That will be quite impossible," sniffed Lady Ascot, "for you have already shown us where this tale leads." Here she looked quite Disapprovingly in Tarrant's direction.

"Hmm, no, I'm afraid that's more the middle part, Lady Ascot. But yes, perhaps the place to start is when I first met the Mad Hatter."

The hatter in question giggled quite foolishly at this.

"When I was six and a half years old, Lady Ascot-for Mother already knows most of this though both she and father of course refused to believe it-I had a tumble down a rabbit hole quite similar to the one we took today. Of course, it couldn't have been completely the same, as it let out in Derbyshire, but the scenery on the way down and the circular room at the bottom were quite the same. I wandered about on my own for quite a long time, and met various people and creatures, all of whom made quite an impression on me. Three of those characters you have met with me today: the March Hare, the Dormouse, and the Mad Hatter. They were having tea in the clearing that we stopped in earlier."

Here the Hatter interjected apologetically, "I'm afraid we were dreadfully rude to the poor little thing. I had just been installed in the palace as hatter to the White Queen, and I had very little chance to see my friends. I was most uninterested in looking after a rather impudent child."

"You told me my hair wanted cutting," Alice accused laughingly. "I would call that impudence!"

"So we were all rather antagonistic to pint-sized Alice, but she got on well enough. Even then she was extremely muchy. I had occasion to see her again that day, as there was some jealous back-and-forth with the Red and White Queens in those days as to who they could get to make their clothes. The Red Queen called me up as a witness to some sort of petty theft, though of course I'd seen nothing of the sort, but dashed if I didn't get roped into making a bonnet or two before leaving. . ."

"Hatter, this is very interesting backstory, but I'm not sure it's information they need to know."

"Quite right. Proceed then, my dear."

"Well, I got out of that situation with the aid of a bit of mushroom that functions much like upelkutchen-"

"A primary ingredient, my Alice-"

"And when I blinked I found myself returned to Derbyshire, with my governess calling for me."

Helen found herself blinking and said, "I'm afraid I was rather harsh on the poor girl. She said you'd disappeared down a hole, but we found you unharmed just five minutes later, so I scolded her for losing track of you and lying to cover it up. She never quite forgave me."

Nobody had anything to say to that, so Alice continued,

"Some time later, maybe you'll remember exactly how long, Mother, I was playing with Dinah's kittens when I leaned right through a looking glass in the library and ended up back here."

"In Wonderland," Helen breathed.

"Underland, actually," Alice corrected. "I wasn't quite right about that detail at the time, though I had it pointed out to me on my next trip. Many things happened on that second jaunt, including another meeting with the Hatter, who was quite as unhelpful as ever."

Tarrant grimaced ruefully and nodded.

"When I returned that time, it was sort of gradual, so that when I told you about it Mother, it was easy enough for you to say, 'Oh, you must have turned the kittens into the Queens' and I believed it. I came to think all my memories were just dreams, though actually my dreams were memories. In any event, my next trip to Underland was on an occasion that everyone here will remember."

Alice looked exceedingly uncomfortable, shifting about and inspecting her fingernails. However, Lady Ascot would have none of it.

"Well, girl? What occasion was this?"

"I suppose you all recall that at the garden party when you forced-I mean, when Hamish asked me to marry him, I had a bit of a panicked moment, and ran off. Well, between when I went running off and when I came back to deliver my responses to the various situations I'd experienced, I spent five and a half days in Underland."

Here Tarrant could hold still no longer and interrupted her tale. "Alice, you make it sound as if you ran off to sneak a holiday. I assure you, ladies, that it was nothing of the sort. Nivens McTwisp, the White Rabbit, had been sent from the palace at Mamoreal to find The Alice, who was prophesied to slay the Jabberwock and release Underland from the tyranny of Iracebeth the Bloody Red Queen of Crims. Underland had become quite a different place in the time between Alice's second and third visits, and not a one of the changes was for the better."

The Hatter looked so dejected when speaking of this last part that Helen could hardly muster up any disdain when Alice consolingly put her hand on his on top of the table.

"We needn't go into all of that, Tarrant dear. Suffice it to say, Mother, Lady Ascot, that when I reappeared in the gazebo, I'd just slain a fearsome beast, which until only moments before I'd believed quite impossible of myself, and I'm afraid I was rather outside myself at the time. Nothing back in England seemed real any longer. So now I would like to take the opportunity to beg your pardon for the way I handled things. Upon further reflection I realized it would have been much better to plead illness or heatstroke or fatigue and refuse Hamish in private later on, as well as put off many of the other personal comments that I made public that afternoon. I am truly sorry about that."

Alice looked up at both her mother and Lady Ascot during this apology, and Helen could see that it was heartfelt. Alice had apparently carried this burden for the past year, and Mrs. Kingsleigh, at least, was happy to allow her to release it.

Lady Ascot, however, snorted most indelicately and said, "My dear I hope you do not expect me to accept some blatant tale about bloodsports as an explanation for your deplorable insult to myself and my family. As if any lady would be capable of," here she dropped her voice disdainfully, "slaying."

"Indeed, Alice, what a fantastical and horrifying notion. You always had quite an imagination, but you were never so indelicate as to talk of charging about killing things," added her mother.

"Alice," interjected the Hatter, "I am beginning to see why it was so difficult for you to accept the truth of the prophecy."

"Yes," she whispered.

He then addressed the Respectable Gentlewoman directly.

"It gives me great pain to know that those close to Alice doubt her capabilities, and I must inform you that you are wrong. Alice not only has the capacity to slay horrifying demons, but she did in truth slay the most terrible of all, the dreaded Jabberwock, freeing all of Underland on the Frabjous Day, and restoring the crown to the White Queen, Mirana of Mamoreal. I was there beside her on that day, and I can assure you, the songs and stories that have been sung in her honor do not exaggerate her valour in the slightest."

"Except for the one about me having flame-throwing eyes. I'm sure you will agree with me that that was quite a stretch."

"We-ell, yes, that one was a bit of an exaggeration."

"And the one about being forty feet tall?"

"Perhaps an overstatement."

Mrs. Kingsleigh was feeling decidedly sick to her stomach.

"But did you, Alice, did you slay this beast?" she asked, fearing the answer her daughter would give.

Alice looked up at her with wide dark eyes so like her father's and nodded.

"Yes. The Vorpal Blade knew what to do, I was just the bearer really, but I accepted my fate as the Queen's champion and slew the Jabberwock. Then, as I said, I returned to England to deal with my affairs that had been left unresolved."

Helen had been watching her daughter closely, but chanced to glance at the Hatter when Alice mentioned her return Above. For just a moment his eyes dulled, and his face took on such a melancholy expression that it was clear that this part of the story had pained him greatly. Still, she could not bring herself to feel too sorry for him, as they were sitting in his back garden listening to Alice speak with his ring on her finger.

"As you know, I then dedicated myself to my apprenticeship and went abroad on the Wonder. I saw many amazing sights and quite successfully established trade in China with Lord Ascot's blessing. The whole while though I was plagued with thoughts of how difficult it was as a young woman to gain anyone's respect or attention in the business world. Whether I wanted to succeed in business or in Society, people expected me to be things I'm not. Sometimes I could change to meet those expectations, but sometimes it was impossible or at too great a cost. In Underland, I've been judged by my deeds, not by what people see. I have friends who really know me and understand me better than those above who think me too queer or mad to really try.

"After much reflection, and some correspondence with Lord Ascot about setting up provisions for Mother with my earnings, I decided to return to Underland. The Wonder was most of the way back to England, but I determined to leave before I returned and make a clean break. I wrote three letters, one to you, Mother, one to Margaret, and one to Lord Ascot, which also contained some instructions for Hargraves. Then I wished very hard, and stepped through the looking glass in my cabin."

Here she and the Hatter shared a most foolish giggle.

"And Alice arrived back in Underland on Tuckeral Day, just as predicted, though certainly earlier than I was expecting her! She tumbled out of the sideboard mirror onto the breakfast table in the kitchens at the White Palace, right into the squimberry jam. It was such a marvelous mess!"

Lady Ascot broke in at this juncture, evidently to prevent further tales of ridiculous improprieties.

"But you did return to England, Miss Kingsleigh. I am certain my husband did not receive the letter you spoke of. Did you receive such a thing, Helen?"

Mrs. Kingsleigh was at this point fighting back tears. She had only ever tried her best for both her girls, and now here they were, one married to a notorious wastrel, and the other had been on the point of abandoning her own family for a fantasy land, which she now seemed to divide her time with. Helen felt quite jealous of this Hatter person.

"No, I most certainly did not. I am glad that you changed your mind about this place, Alice. You've been doing much better lately and once we wake up from this dreadful place we can have a nice chat about what you want for your future."

Alice exchanged a troubled look with the Hatter.

"I didn't change my mind, Mother. After. . .some time had passed, the Queen mentioned that there was a safe method of travel available if I was interested in visiting Above for short periods. When I first tried it, I ended up in my berth on the Wonder, only seconds since I'd left yea-all that time ago. It was most astounding! So I found that by being careful with what I said and did Above, no one would realize I'd ever been gone at all. I've been going back and forth by looking glass for, oh, a long time now, never spending more than a few days at a time in London, and I've been able to keep the time difference equal by having someone hold the glass open for me on this side while I'm up there.

That's why today is so troubling. I can't for the life of me think what's different this time from all the other times I've done it."

Something seemed to occur to the Hatter, and he asked carefully, "Alice, love, was there anything unusual about when you went through the glass from the castle this time?"

Alice screwed up her face in thought, and then looked surprised.

"Now that you mention it, yes. It was rather harder than normal to make it through the glass. Usually it's like mist you know, you can feel it, but it doesn't stop you moving through it. But this time it felt like molasses, all sticky, and I had to push a bit to get through. I thought it was just me feeling a bit off, but-"

"You went through anyway! Alice, why would you take such a risk?" the Hatter suddenly seemed beside himself with worry. "It was a warning not to go through in your state, and what did you do? You went right through. Oh Alice, there is a time and place for muchness, but just now a bit more caution would make me feel quite a bit better."

Alice looked genuinely contrite at his distress. "I'm sorry Tarrant, I just wanted to get through. I was supposed to go see the lawyer again, and I knew I wouldn't be going through again for months after this visit."

"Did you at least tell Mirana about your condition?" he asked.

"I didn't think it would make a difference," she started.

"But it has perhaps made a very big difference!" he insisted.

"What is this condition that has supposedly dragged your mother and myself into this impossible situation?" asked Lady Ascot.

"Yes, tell us!" said Helen, quite worried about what could be the matter with Alice. The illness that had claimed her husband had come upon him very suddenly, and the doctors could offer no assurances that Alice and Margaret were not predisposed to it.

"Oh," said Alice, once again holding a silent conference with her Hatter. At the end of this one she smiled shyly, the Hatter beamed, and announced with the odd little lisp he sometimes seemed to affect,

"Alice and I are expecting."

When this was met with blank stares, he added, "A child."

A/N –

So this one was rather long, huh? It just poured right out of me. I loved trying to look at Underland through Helen Kingsleigh's eyes. Did it work for you? I wanted to make her a bit more sympathetic than in the last chapter, as I think she's trying her best to be a good mother to both her girls within their cultural bias, but Alice obviously does not fit into the mold of a perfect Victorian aristocrat.

Thanks you to those who reviewed! Please let me know what you think! Thanks so much, bb.


	3. Chapter 3

Lady Ascot was a woman who knew her own mind. She'd been dealt a certain hand in life, and she'd done her best with what she'd had. Some of the cards in her hand were unarguably trumps, such as starting life the daughter of a wealthy mining family who were most interested in joining the ranks of the aristocracy. She was married at a rather young age to the first available lord in need of an heiress for a wife. Though she found Lord Overton did not suit her well at all, he was a nice enough man, and left her to conduct her own affairs for the most part unimpeded. However, his estate had been much further in debt than she or her family had realized, and her fortune seemed imperilled by the haphazard investments and spending of her husband. His death after the birth of their young son seemed almost fortuitous. Though somewhat diminished, their fortunes were great enough that nothing was found wanting in the eyes of Society. Hamish inherited his father's land and title, and his mother was free to pursue her own interests. She had never been a ravishing beauty, but found that age was exceedingly kind to her in lending a sort of mature authority that she had lacked in her youth. By the time Hamish was starting at Eton, the former Lady Overton had consented to wed her late husband's business associate and became the new Lady Ascot. This match did deprive her of some of the independence she enjoyed as a widow, but Lord Ascot's dependability and good name brought benefits of their own.

Lady Ascot renewed the acquaintance of another of her late husband's business partners and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kingsleigh. The man was considered something of a mad genius in the business world, having grown his father's trading company from a modest enterprise into an international giant in scarcely ten years. Lady Ascot found Helen to be genial, if a bit inclined to worry over the health of her family. They got on well enough to work together in the various charities and balls of their social set, and the Kingsleighs were frequent visitors to Lord Ascot's estate.

Lady Ascot felt quite content in her role as mistress of Wainsbury. While Hamish would not inherit Lord Ascot's land, there would be a place for him in the company, and after the death of Charles Kingsleigh, it looked as though Hamish might stand to gain the whole thing once Lord Ascot retired. The only condition Helen set on the sale of the company was a provision for her children. Rather than keep the Kingsleigh sisters as separate shareholders in the company, it would be much neater if Hamish could marry one of Charles' two daughters. The eldest was a good three years older than Hamish, and intent on marrying the son of Lord and Lady Manchester, so the younger of the two was judged to be the more suitable. This had indeed been Lady Ascot's plan since they were children, but the death of Charles made it crucial that the match be cemented before any other attachments could be formed on the part of the girl. Thankfully she was a dreamy thing and highly unlikely to seek out a husband on her own. Or so their thinking had gone. Helen consented to the agreement, though that solicitor of hers had made some trouble about the imprudence of relying on a future marriage as partial compensation for the sale of the company. Like Lady Ascot, Helen Kingsleigh felt the security of her children's future took precedence over the immediate monetary reward.

So it was that three months after Hamish's eighteenth birthday, and a mere three weeks after the Kingsleigh family came out of mourning, an engagement party was to be held. Lady Ascot was regretful that they could not wait a more seemly period, but the most important thing was to secure Hamish's prospects with the company. While the sale had already gone through, Lord Ascot was an extremely honorable man, and would likely allow Helen to renegotiate their contract if somehow this match was foiled.

With this in mind, Lady Ascot had worked tirelessly to perfect that day, no thanks to Helen Kingsleigh, who showed up more than an hour and a half late with the guest of honor in tow. The girl was lovely, and Lady Ascot was pleased that the unfortunate genes of her late husband would be diluted by her fairer ones in the next generation. Unfortunately, Miss Kingsleigh proved to be as flighty as a young woman as she had been as a child.

Years of careful planning were ruined in a matter of minutes, as Miss Kingsleigh ran off without answering Hamish and returned looking as though she'd been dragged through the brush only to refuse him. To make matters worse, the impudent thing somehow convinced Lord Ascot to involve her personally in the company-just what Lady Ascot had been trying to avoid. Soon after, Hamish began to say that he had never wanted to marry Alice anyway, so the hopes of a reconciliation seemed minimal.

In the following months, as Miss Kingsleigh insinuated herself into the dealings of her husband's company, Lady Ascot still had not discovered just how this alteration of plans would affect Hamish and his future with the company. Hamish had just started at Cambridge, and seemed determined to study Classics, and though this could be a fine foundation for other pursuits, it was most frustrating that Miss Kingsleigh was making inroads into the company whereas Hamish had not even begun to involve himself.

Needless to say, it was with a certain coolness that Lady Ascot had been receiving Helen Kingsleigh and her daughters over the past months since that grievous insult of a garden party. Today, when Miss Kingsleigh took off to supposedly inspect the rose garden, Lady Ascot had been so overcome with rage at her cheek that she had followed her immediately. Upon reflection, this had been a rash and ill-thought-out course of action. What good could have come of catching Miss Kingsleigh out as unstable in private? It would still be necessary to convince her husband of the fact, and he was very aware of her bias in the matter. It was beginning to drive a wedge between them, a fact that Lady Ascot deeply regretted but was too proud to admit.

Now it seemed that instead of finding proof of Miss Kingsleigh's madness, she had unfortunately found that there was a world where her oddness was quite ordinary. After the terrifying fall and Helen's subsequent declaration that she believed she was having a fit, Lady Ascot could only regret that she knew this not to be the case. She had always enjoyed a sound constitution, and had never had any illusions as to what was fact and what was fantasy. As a dedicated pragmatist it pained her greatly, but the world she had been forced into through the rabbit hole was all too real for how could anyone dream up such absurdity? She certainly couldn't; ergo, this whole unfortunate business had to be true, talking rodents and all. Right down to Alice's declaration that she had married and conceived a child with a milliner who looked like nothing so much as a circus clown.

Lady Ascot let out a low whispering breath.

"There'll be no annulment now my dear Helen."

Despite holding herself apart from the undignified events of the day, Lady Ascot felt a keen sympathy for her friend. Helen may have been too doting and a bit scatterbrained, but she had only wanted what was best for her children, and it seemed that in both their cases she was to be sadly disappointed.

She glanced around the garden, which was very lovely, despite the oddity of some of the flowers possessing faces and voices, which seemed to her to be gossiping quietly about the conversation taking place. Alice and her husband could not even be counted on to provide Helen with privacy while they shocked her most mercilessly. The pity she felt for her friend found its way out in anger at their host and hostess.

"Evidently you see no harm in airing your business where it can be easily overheard and repeated," she began, nodding at the eagerly listening greenery, "but your poor mother seems to be in need of some rest after the dreadful turns you've given her, Miss Kingsleigh, er-Mrs.-"

"Just Alice, please, Lady Ascot. And though I realize this is all very upsetting to you, Mother, I hope you'll understand why I made the choices that I did. It was only because I longed to see you and Margaret again that I took the Queen up on her offer of looking glass travel. And a rest may be in order, however, I am not quite done with the shocking revelations, so I hope you prove to be made of sterner stuff than Lady Ascot believes."

Here she looked at the Hatter, took a steeling breath, and said, "I mentioned that I intended to return to Underland for good, and also that Time does not run the same way between our worlds. Therefore while I was scarcely absent at all to the eyes of those Above, I have been living in Underland for the last fifteen years. Tarrant and I will be celebrating our thirteenth anniversary in a few months."

"A most auspicious anniversary," he informed them, smilingly and completely absurdly.

"So much as I would love to offer you a chance to retire, this is not the most restful time of day at Hat House, since the children will soon be returning for school."

No sooner had the girl spoken, than there was the sound of feet tromping through the house. It sounded like a herd of elephants on a tin roof.

"From school, you mean," corrected Lady Ascot, before she could even process the implications of this remark.

"On the contrary, it would be most backwards to expect children to study through the nicest part of the day. School takes place in the early morning, and late afternoon only, except on exam days and other holidays," returned the Hatter most obtusely.

"But Alice," Helen murmured helplessly, "you look exactly the same."

However, as she spoke, the door to the house opened, and a little girl of about four or five years with startling ginger curls tumbled into the garden.

"Mam's back!" she screamed, and as she ran to embrace Alice both Mrs. Kingsleigh and Lady Ascot could see that it was not the case that Alice was unchanged. It was as if a veil had lifted, and in place of a twenty year old slip of a girl, sat a woman in the prime of her life, with a few lines in her face to attest to years of motherhood and laughter. She looked fuller as she stood and swooped the child up into her arms. Full of life and happiness, Alice looked different but still had not lost the bloom of youth. Though, looking speculatively at the Hatter who had claimed to be fully grown when Alice was six, Lady Ascot entertained the notion that this might be yet another oddity of this world.

Then another girl entered the garden, followed by two boys, and a toddling child in gowns who might be either, and Goodness! They certainly had quite a brood. Lady Ascot had always held that it was unseemly to have too many children, and five with a sixth on the way decidedly crossed that line.

She sniffed.

"I can see that it would not be convenient at all for us to stay in your house, so might we get back to the original issue of returning us to Wainsbury? I would prefer to arrive there before anyone has noticed our absence, since that is apparently still a possibility."

However, Lady Ascot was not attended to in the least.

Helen Kingsleigh was actually shedding tears at the appearance of all of the ginger-haired children that had crowded around the table curiously after realizing that their parents had guests. Thankfully they had quieted down and were waiting to be introduced.

Alice worked backwards from youngest to oldest, quite unconventionally.

"This little fellow is Timony, then Coramine and Tryphosia, Keirant, Reena and Riah, that is to say Serena and Zachariah, twins as you see, but Charles, our eldest is not here at the moment," she said.

"Yes, he is apprenticed at the castle already!" the Hatter proclaimed proudly.

Lady Ascot shuddered in sympathy for poor Helen to know that her grandchildren were consigned to apprentice as tradesmen. After the plans that they had laid for Alice and Hamish, the shame of it was almost unbearable.

But Helen did not seem to be shedding tears of shame.

"Oh Alice," she cried, "They're beautiful! And you look lovely and happy. Your father would be so pleased, he was one of seven, you know, and I always wished I could have given him a larger family. But he was devoted to you and Margaret, and would have been thrilled to have so many grandchildren."

Alice seemed to be feeling equally emotional, and so passed the baby to the Hatter and was firmly embraced by her mother. However this seemed to be too much for the young woman, as she couldn't quite seem to get her breath for some reason, and her husband started hopping about concernedly trying to detach Mrs. Kingsleigh, and the children seemed to know more about what the matter was than Lady Ascot or Helen did, for they started echoing the Hatter's earlier nonsense and begging their mother to go change her clothes.

"Alice, what on earth is the matter," Helen asked, quite perturbed.

"The-corset-" Alice wheezed.

"Oh. Oh!" cried Helen. "Then yes, you must go change at once. I had no idea, when I insisted-and you've been running about all day! Really Alice, where is your head?"

Once the issue with the corset had been resolved Alice returned wearing a lovely dress of cornflower blue. The problem of their return was explained to the children, the twins, who seemed to have some proficiency in such things, immediately offered to open a glass for their convenience' Though she was quite skeptical of any procedure overseen by ten year old children, Lady Ascot's desire to go home eventually overrode her concerns and she consented to visualize a glass in her house that they could come through without being observed. When they could see Lady Ascot's dressing room through the full length glass in the hat workshop, Helen seized her daughter's hands.

"When will I see you again Alice?"

"Oh, probably not until the baby is born, but I daresay I'll be back before _you_ know it," she replied. "I had wanted to get this business with Lowell sorted before I had to stop coming."

"With Lowell?" Helen inquired sharply. "So you are aware of his true nature."

"Oh yes," said Alice. "Ever since I saw him kissing Evie Granger at the Garden Party. I don't mind saying that in and of itself put me a bit off matrimony."

Helen sighed. "As horrible as his indiscretions are, the worst of it seems to be his gambling."

"Well," replied Alice, shrewdly, "It's not the gambling that will get Margaret a divorce."

"A divorce!" gasped the two gentlewomen in tandem.

"Yes, Mother, Lady Ascot, I'm afraid that's what it will have to be. I've already spoken to Lord and Lady Manchester about the conclusive findings of the private detective I hired. Evie was not the first or last or the least innocent of his transgressions. They've agreed to pass Lowell over in favor of baby Clarence for inheritance. That despicable creature won't even get the title. In fact, Mother, if you'll just give to word to Hargraves, he has a letter ready to be sent to Lowell with our ultimatum."

No one could bring themselves to say anything in Lowell's defense, but this arrangement was still quite shocking.

"I confess Alice, I am glad to hear we have some recourse, but think of how painful it will be for Margaret to be known as a divorcee," Helen said sadly.

"Oh, that won't matter to most people once she marries Hamish," Alice said offhandedly. "Then she'll get the title right away and everyone will forget she was ever a Manchester."

Both Mrs. Kingsleigh and Lady Ascot gaped most improperly at this outrageous statement.

She looked at them curiously.

"Hamish always preferred Margaret. I thought everyone knew that. And Margaret has been so insistent about pointing out Hamish's good qualities ever since the Garden Party that it shouldn't take much for her to realize that they all apply as much to her as to me. I think she'll be just the one to attend to his digestive ills," Alice continued. "I'm quite lucky Tarrant has no such problems or things would have gone quite poorly for us in my early years of housekeeping."

Alice shared a rueful smile with her Hatter at that.

"I don't know why you think Hamish will overlook the dictates of decency to marry a divorced woman, putting his own reputation on the line, childish affection or no!" spluttered Lady Ascot.

Alice's easygoing demeanor seemed to evaporate for a moment.

"Well, Lady Ascot, if affection is too poor an excuse for a marriage for you, perhaps you might recall to mind that the share of the company that Hamish is due to take over on Lord Ascot's retirement was part of an agreement that assumed his marriage to one of Charles Kingsleigh's children. Though it seems to have slipped your mind, Lord Ascot assured me that he had not forgotten and was willing to renegotiate the settlement in light of changing circumstances."

Lady Ascot snapped her jaw shut. All of the indignant blustering she had been ready to do wilted in the face of this practical reminder. Hamish's lands and estate would need the income from his position with the company to be truly secure in the future. Alice well knew this, and had prepared for Lady Ascot's objections. Truly the girl was cannier than she looked at the moment, swinging a child from her arms as she smiled at her mother.

"Oh quickly!" Alice exclaimed, "Someone is turning the door handle!"

Alice practically shoved her mother and Lady Ascot one after the other into the looking glass where they only felt a faint shivering sensation before they were confronted with a very startled looking housemaid.

After Lady Ascot had sent her running with a commanding glare, Helen dared to venture, "It wasn't a fit then, was it Minnie?"

"No, Helen, not a fit at all."

"And the letter to Lowell?"

"Send it as soon as you return to London, my dear."

The two women smiled at each other tentatively. Finally something was going according to plan, and even if it wasn't their original idea exactly, now it was a Kingsleigh Plan: a mad wonderful sort of plan which Time had proven to work quite well indeed.

A/N –

Much shorter. I really enjoyed Lady Ascot, but she just wasn't as verbose as Helen. I have already written a bit more on this scenario, but for the time being I'm calling this story FINISHED. (That's a big deal for me.) Maybe the next bit will come out as a drabble collection or a sequel or maybe I will go back and add more to this. Who knows. But thank you so much for reading!

I would love love love to know what you think! Please tell me! bb


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